A Prince Returns
by trallgorda
Summary: Malone is mistaken for a lost prince! Please R&R! Chapter 7 up!
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I own nothing except my own characters.

Chapter 1

The queen was sitting in her study, reading and signing documents. She sighed, not quite sure what was the matter with her today. It had been ten years since her husband had died, and twenty since her son had disappeared. How was her son now, she wondered. Where was he? Did he know who he was, or had he simply died? She shook her head, unwilling to believe it. He was alive and would return someday, she just hoped she would be alive to see it.

She barely heard the door open as an older man entered, looking as if he had seen a ghost. It was Kestrel, the court "wizard." Nowadays it was just an honorary title since magic had faded from the land an age of ages ago. Now the court "wizard" was a man who was renowned for his learning and counsel.

"Kestrel? Are you all right" she asked, somewhat disturbed to see the pale and shaken look on his face.

"I'm fine, Your Majesty" he said, but the frightened look didn't fade from his face. "I came to see you since I've had a vision."

She sat up a little, surprised. It was known that Kestrel was "strange" and that spirits sent visions to him, but he had never actually told someone when he had one.

"Are you sure" she asked, worried.

He nodded. "I cannot doubt it, Your Majesty. It concerns your son."

She felt herself go cold all over. "My son"

"In a week, you must go to the hot springs and soak your feet in the water. That's what I saw you doing. Then a beast will leap out of the bushes at you, and you scream, but your son appears and kills it, saving your life. That is what I saw, and I am sure that if you went to the springs, your son will come"

He was so fervent in his belief that she could not disbelieve it. "In the morning, afternoon, or evening" she asked.

"In the morning, Majesty. It will happen in the morning, and your son will return to you."

Space

Malone squinted in the bright morning sunlight, wishing he could find a quicker way back to the treehouse. He had gone out hunting early this morning, and had been disappointed each time he had his sights set on something. Frustrated and more than a little grouchy, he headed back home, hoping that he hadn't gone so far as to get lost. He was sure that he knew the terrain around the treehouse pretty well by now, but he didn't want to be proven wrong. Pushing aside some branches, he swore under his breath. What he'd thought was the way back to the treehouse was actually a bramble patch. He had to face it: He was lost.

Screaming interrupted his thoughts, and he went running back the way he had come. Pelting headlong back down the hill and toward the screams, he prayed he would be in time to help whoever it was. Roars made him run faster, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was downhill all the way. Bursting through the bushes at the bottom, he saw a woman cornered by a large panther. It took him only a moment to aim and pull the trigger, and the rifle was powerful enough so that it took only one shot to ensure that it was dead. The woman dropped to the ground, shaking and frightened, but apparently unhurt.

"Are you all right" he asked, lowering the gun and going over to her. It looked as if she had been getting ready to bathe in the spring since her shoes and stockings were in a pile at her bare feet.

"I-I'm all right" she said tremulously. She still seemed very frightened. "Are you all right"

"Fine" he assured her, helping her to her feet. She slipped her stockings and shoes on, and held onto his arm, not willing to let him go.

"Are you by yourself" he asked, surprised that she was out here by herself.

She nodded. "Could you escort me home" she requested.

Malone looked at her. She was wearing a dark lavender dress of some very rich material, and her hair was done up in a soft, becoming style that suited her motherly air. He found himself liking her, and he was sure that there was something wrong.

"Why are you out here by yourself" he asked, just to make sure.

"I decided to have a day to myself" she answered. "I needed to get away and clear my head, and I thought a soak in the springs here would do it. I didn't realize a beast would come."

He nodded, convinced. He would help her home and then head back to the treehouse.

They headed off together, chatting companionably. She did some sort of work for her government, and was often plagued by people with petitions or ambitions of their own. Malone began to understand why she had crept off: She just couldn't take it anymore. She asked him all sorts of questions about himself, everything from his name to what his friends were called. Malone was telling her all about Challenger and the work he did when they topped a rise and spotted the city.

"Is that it" Malone asked. Hoofbeats interrupted him.

A group of men rode up, all in some sort of military uniform. "Your Majesty" exclaimed the captain. "Are you hurt"

"I am just fine, captain" she assured him, smiling the slightest bit. "This is Ned, and he saved me from a panther."

All of them sat up at attention in their saddles, their hands coming up in salutes. "Sir"

Another man rode up, older than the soldiers, and he smiled when he spotted them. He was told a quick version of the queen's rescue, and the gentleman insisted that Ned at least remain overnight and be honored as befit the queen's rescuer. Ned's protests fell on deaf ears as the captain pulled him up behind himself and the queen joined the older man on his horse. They cantered off into the city, and Ned wondered what his friends were going to think when he failed to show up for dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Malone stared up at the huge building they were approaching as he thought about what the soldiers had called the woman he had helped. "Your Majesty" wasn't that common a title, so she had to be a queen. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground when the people of the city spotted him and broke out cheering. Had word of his good deed traveled that quickly? He couldn't believe it. The gossip network had to be very efficient in this city.

The palace (that was the only thing this building could be) was an old and gorgeous place, and he was bustled inside along with the queen. It seemed that her main function now was to be decorative rather than authoritative: people clustered around her, welcoming her back, but the old man, Kestrel, as he'd been introduced, was giving all the orders. A group of ladies surrounded the queen and all but carried her off, saying that she must be exhausted from being out all day, and she wasn't given a chance to even say a "see you later" to the rest of the people there. Men surrounded Malone at Kestrel's order and led him off in another direction, telling him how pleased they were to meet him.

Malone felt his head spin after a few minutes. They went up some staircases, down hallways, through galleries, down some stairs, passed through corridors, and at last into a suite of rooms. If he had to find his way back to the front door on his own, he'd be lost in no time.

The men hurried about the room, opening drawers and pulling things out, examining them, putting them back in, or disappearing into another room.

"Ah, could I help?" Malone asked, feeling as useful as an extra leg on a person who already had two good ones.

"Oh, not at all, _you_ have had a hard journey," one man assured him, and Malone found himself escorted to a chair and supplied with a cool drink. "You just rest there and we'll have everything ready for you in a moment."

_Everything? What everything?_ Malone wondered, but he sipped at his drink to cover his confusion. Margeurite said that in order to be polite to servants, you allowed them to do their job without getting in their way, annoying them, or telling them how to do their job; and you always had to be careful to treat them as the experts they were. He stayed where he had been put, and let them go. He was just finishing the drink(some sort of fruit juice) when the same man appeared at his elbow and announced that everything was ready.

"Ready?" Malone parrotted, still feeling confused.

"Your bath, sir," the man replied, taking him by the elbow. A slight pressure upward was all that was required to bring Malone out of his chair, and he was escorted into the smaller room, which turned out to be a bathroom. The tub was full and the water looked hot, and Malone became acutely aware of how he was covered in sweat, dirt, and grime.

"Do you require aid in undressing?" the man asked. The whole group stood behind them in a line, ready to do whatever was asked.

"No, thank you," Malone said, giving his voice an upward inflection to let the man know that he wished to know his name.

"Karlton, sir," the man supplied. "I am your personal valet."

"No, thank you, Karlton, that won't be necessary," Malone assured him, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed. He was a grown man!

"Would you require help bathing?"

Malone was positive that he was blushing from the heat on his face. After assuring Karlton that his help really wasn't needed and seeing him and all of his assistants out the bathroom door, Malone undressed and slipped into the tub, wincing a little bit at the heat of the water. The treehouse had running water, and hot water for baths, but he never ran his baths very hot, only comfortable. He could feel kinks from the long walk unknotting, and he relaxed a few minutes before beginning a thorough scrub. He rubbed his skin pink in the process of getting clean, and stepped out and began drying off. A robe had been laid ready, so he pulled it on and was drying his hair when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

It was Karlton. "It will be dinnertime soon, sir, and we have to get you dressed."

Malone started blushing again. If Veronica or Margeurite heard about this, he'd never hear the end of it.

Space

Roxton, Challenger, and Margeurite watched Veronica as she paced back and forth acrosse the treehouse, fretting about Malone. The lad hadn't come back for dinner and he'd been gone all day without leaving a note. What could be keeping him? Why was he so late?

"Y'know, when he comes back," Margeurite said conversationally, "we should ground him for making us worry like this!" What had started out as a nice little statement ended up as a hiss.

"You're not worried, are you?" Roxton teased.

"No, I'm just worried about Veronica," she snapped. "Seeing someone pacing back and forth for a couple of hours is enough to make anyone worry!"

"I agree," Challenger said, closing the book he'd been attempting to read. "Why on earth didn't he leave a note? He knows better than that! Didn't he think we'd be worried?"

"Perhaps he meant to come right back," Margeurite suggested.

"Then why didn't he come back?" Roxton wanted to know.

"That's it," Veronica said, heading for the elevator. "I'm going to look for him."

Margeurite got up and stopped her. "Veronica, it's dark out," she said, trying to keep her there. "We won't be able to see a thing. Tomorrow we'll go find him as soon as there's enough light."

"Margeurite's right," Roxton said. "We'll make preparations now and leave tomorrow bright and early. It would be better than you going off on your own to find him."

Veronica looked as if she wanted to argue, but she nodded and began to set things ready with the others. As they worked, all of them wondered what could have happened to Malone.

Space

Malone wondered how he got into these messes. After much fussing from his valets, he was dressed in the finest clothes he'd ever worn. The high-collared jacket, however, was heavily embroidered and itched at his neck the slightest bit. There was too much gold braid on the collar for it to be comfortable. Karlton was escorting him to the queen, who would in turn escort him to dinner, and more than once Malone was admonished for tugging at his collar.

Karlton was telling him to stand up straight and for Heaven's sake, not to pull on the collar when they rounded a corner and met the queen. Karlton bowed deeply, and Malone, feeling he should follow protocol, began to as well. She stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, took his arm, and thanked Karlton. The valet bowed himself out and Malone walked alongside the queen, hearing how happy she was that he was joining them for dinner.

"I'm not quite sure of what to do," Malone confessed nervously. "Will I have to make a toast or something?"

The queen smiled. "No, dear, not at all," she replied. "Have you never attended a formal dinner?"

"Not a royal one," he admitted.

"Well, just watch what I do, and you do the same directly after me," she told him as they reached a pair of large double doors. Footmen ushered them through, and Malone felt overwhelmed as every person within bowed or curtsied. Malone saw the queen bow her head and curtsy the slightest bit before he heard the whispered command "Bow. I'll stop you when needed."

Malone began to bow, but when a slight pressure on his arm stopped him, he had only given a quarter bow. Was that right? It must have been, for she began to lead him to his chair at her right hand. According to Margeurite, that was the seat of greatest honor. He stood behind his chair as others were doing, and watched her for the cue to take his seat. She sat and cued him and he sat, but the others were a few seconds behind him. Had he gone too fast?

He decided not to worry as the first course was served. It was some sort of appetizer, and he watched how the queen ate so he would know what to do, correcting his table manners as the meal went along. He ate a little bit of everything, remembering that large dinners had a great many courses. If he ate all of each dish, he'd burst his belt after the third course.

The most troubling thing was the conversation. Everyone seated around him had to hear how he had saved the queen several times, and then they had to know all about him. They were confused as to what a journalist was, but when he explained that a journalist recorded and reported events to others, there was a murmur that made him worried all over again. Was it gauche to say that one was a reporter? Was he going to mortally offend someone before the night was over?

"Don't worry about it," the queen assured him in a whisper. "The only news the court troubles itself about is the latest fashion, so such an idea is a novelty."

Dessert had ended and Malone was getting a bit of a headache from the champagne when he heard a chair slide back. It was Kestrel, and he was holding his glass high.

"I wish to make a toast to Her Majesty," Kestrel said, "that you have returned safely to us."

"To Her Majesty!" the room boomed, and everyone took a sip.

"I would also like to make a toast to His Royal Highness, who has returned to us," Kestrel continued, this time lifting his glass in _Malone's_ direction.

"To His Royal Highness!"

Malone sat there and stared, unable to think or speak.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Malone was very uncomfortable until he was out of the dining room. Whenever someone addressed him as "Your Highness," he attempted to correct them, but he never got very far past "I'm sorry, but—." It seemed as if everyone were deaf to his protests. Once he was in the hallway, he was able to demand of Kestrel what the hell he thought he was doing, making an announcement like that.

"What on earth do you mean?" Kestrel said, looking highly affronted at Malone's language.

"You told everyone in there that _I _am a prince!" Malone shouted. "I'm not! I have no idea what put that notion into your head, but trust me, there is no way that I can be your prince! I have never been anywhere like this place before, and there is no way that it's possible!"

"Calm down," Kestrel said, trying to placate him. "Calm down, now. You may be a little confused, I'll grant you that, but that's no reason to begin shouting."

Malone stopped, and glared at him and ignored Kestrel's attempts to get him walking again. "Damn right I'm confused!"

"_Please_, watch your language," Kestrel said, pulling on Malone's elbow. "Once we're in private you may swear all you wish, but you'll scandalize all the ladies if they hear you."

Malone allowed himself to be led along into his room, and once Kestrel had shut the door he didn't waste any time. "Explain. _Now._"

Kestrel sat down and waved Malone into a chair. Malone perched on the edge of a seat, listening to everything that Kestrel had to say. Kestrel told how the prince had disappeared twenty years ago, and how he had had the vision that revealed how the prince would return to his home. "It's all right if you don't remember," Kestrel said, waving aside Ned's fledgling protests. "You were only a baby when you disappeared, after all. Do you think you could tell me a little bit of how you were raised and who raised you? Your mother is anxious to know."

Malone stared at him. "I'm not your prince," he said, grinding the words out. "Listen to me. I was born in New York City, my parents live there still, and there is no way that I am your prince! Why can't I make you understand me? I'm not who you think I am!"

Kestrel stared at him. "Perhaps I wasn't as clear as I ought to have been," he said as the door opened. It was Karlton, and he was carrying what looked like a pot of tea or cocoa. He poured, and Malone noticed that it was hot apple cider. Kestrel ignored Karlton completely.

"I told you that it's all right if you don't remember, and of course, you wouldn't remember. You were only a few years old when you disappeared. The place you know as your home and the people you know as your parents are not what you think they are. Your home is here, and your mother is here, and this entire kingdom has been waiting for you. A vision showed me how you would return, and you have. There is no arguing with visions. You will become used to this place in time, I assure you."

Malone stared at Kestrel as he pressed a drink into his hand. At a loss, he sank into his chair and sipped. His brain was screaming at him to get up, grab his stuff, and run out of there as fast as possible, but he couldn't make his body work. It was as if all ability to move had been sapped out of him. He was almost done with his cider when he found he could no longer keep the cup in his hands or his eyes open. Quickly, he set the cup down and felt his body go slack as his eyes closed. What was wrong with him?

"Finally," he heard Kestrel say, and he heard the older man get out of his chair. "Karlton, put him to bed, please, and have someone stay with him; sometimes youngsters sleepwalk with drugs in their system."

"Yes, sir," Karlton said, but Malone was happy to hear that he didn't sound too glad about the drugs part.

_He drugged me?_ Malone thought as he felt someone lift him onto the bed and begin working his boots off. _How? Oh, it must have been when he passed me my cup. Whatever that was, it sure acted quick. What is this guy, harmless old councilor or double-dealing jailer? As soon as I'm awake in the morning, I am _out _of here._

Karlton finished putting him to bed quickly, and then he heard the manservant take his place in a nearby chair. Malone lay where he had been tucked in and tried to get himself to go to sleep. The drug held him immobile, but it hadn't sent him to sleep, and that was where he felt like going. At least in sleep, he'd be out of this nightmare. As the minutes started to flow into an hour, and that hour into two, Malone passed into the realms of sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Kisses and hugs to all my reviewers!

Di12381: I'm continuing.

KaliAnn: I'm typing.

Leener: You don't have to wait any longer, the new chapter is here!

Chapter 4

Roxton crouched low to the ground, studying it. A partial bootprint in the soft earth convinced him that Malone had come this way, but where was he now? Moving carefully, examining the ground, crushed grass, bent leaves, and snapped twigs, he followed Malone's trail, hoping that it would lead him to his friend.

A breeze brushed his face, carrying with it the putrid smell of rotting flesh. He stood up.

"Do you smell that?" he asked, turning to the Professor, Veronica, and Margeurite.

All of them breathed deep, trying to smell it. Veronica wrinkled her nose. "That rotting smell?" she asked, feeling a little sick.

"Do you think it's—"Margeurite began, but she stopped, looking rather green. The Professor patted her shoulder.

"Let's go see," Roxton said, leading the way.

They all breathed a sigh of relief when they found the half-eaten panther. Roxton, tying a bandanna over his nose and mouth, hurriedly examined it and washed his hands off in the nearby spring.

"Well?" Veronica asked. "What killed it?"

"A bullet. It was shot right in the back of the head by someone, and the wound looks like the caliber of bullet that belonged to the gun Malone was using. I think that he shot it."

"In the back of the head?" the Professor asked, sounding uncertain. "How did he manage that if it was going to attack him? He'd have had to shoot it from the front, wouldn't he?"

"Well, what if it wasn't about to attack him, but someone else?" Roxton asked, mopping his forehead. "What if Malone saved someone from panther attack?"

"Well, if that's true, then why didn't he come back to the treehouse afterwards?" Margeurite wanted to know. "What's been keeping him?"

Roxton shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps they invited him for the night since it was almost evening. The panther's only been dead a day or so, so that puts it at the other night." Roxton began examining the ground at his feet. "There _was_ someone else here, and it looks like Malone joined him or her, and they went off that way," he finished, pointing the way.

Veronica looked. "It was a woman, but I think an older one," she said, staring at the stranger's footprints.

"What makes you say that?" Challenger asked, intrigued.

"Because her feet are smaller, and she walks with a very slight limp," she explained. "See how the impression on the right foot isn't as deep? That means she favors her leg. Arthritis would be a possible cause, I think."

"Ah," Challenger said, fascinated. "I wonder. . ."

"Wonder as you walk, George, we've got a ways to go, yet," Roxton said, heading off in the direction that Malone and the woman had taken.

Space

"Woah," Veronica said, staring at the large city.

"Well, this is new," Challenger said, looking the scene, perplexed. "Wasn't this place a huge meadow a few months ago?"

"Things shift on the plateau, Challenger," Margeurite said, doing her own amount of staring. "I wonder if they have a shopping district?" she said wistfully. "Perhaps something like Harrod's?"

Roxton ignored her and stared down at the ground. "They were here, and it looks like a bunch of people on horseback met them, picked them up, and took them into the city."

"Yes, but _where_ in the city is Ned now?" Veronica asked as they headed forward.

"I guess we'll have to look," Roxton said, still leading the way. "Everyone, keep your eyes peeled."

The city was a confusion of noise, people, smells, and events. They walked through a market, fighting their way through the crowd, saw acrobats, musicians, newspapers and magazines being sold, and saw one huckster promising miracle pills that would cure any ailment. Horses and sheep were close by, and food stalls cooked up fried meat pies, fruit pies, fried sausages and bread, and stalls with overripe fruit lent a cloying sweetness to the air. People shouted to one another, hawkers called out their wares, and a public reader was reading a newspaper out loud to a group gathered about him.

"Well, this certainly isn't Herrod's," Margeurite said, watching where she was putting her feet.

"How are we going to find Malone in all of this?" Challenger asked as they neared what seemed to be the main street.

"Aah—" Roxton said, but he trailed off, staring at what he was seeing. There, seated in a carriage next to an older woman and across from an older man, was Malone, waving and nodding to the populace.

"Is anyone else confused?" Veronica demanded as the carriage rolled by.

None of them had to answer that.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As soon as the carriage rolled into the courtyard, Malone was up and out of it. That was the second ride that he'd had to take and wave to people in two days, and it was starting to make him very frustrated. These people were ecstatic to see a prince, and he felt completely _fake_ pretending to be one. Kestrel was no help at all. Since Malone had arrived at the palace, Kestrel ruled every aspect of Malone's day, and there was hardly a moment that he let up. Malone would be woken in the morning by Karlton with a tea tray, and Malone would sip at tea while washing and dressing to wake himself up. Then, he would have breakfast with the queen and Kestrel, and Kestrel had made it clear to him that he had to give the queen a kiss every morning and say, "Good morning, Mother." The one time he'd forgotten, Kestrel had pitched a fit once they were in private. He'd tried reasoning with the man, but Malone was beginning to think that the man was somehow mad. After all, he had to know that Malone wasn't the one they were waiting for, but he still persisted in calling him "Your Highness."

After breakfast was finished, Malone had to go to lessons with Brother Ambrose, an elderly monk that was (according to Kestrel) very learned and (according to Malone) very forgetful. Being made to copy pages out of a book of questions when you were a published journalist was very difficult and an exercise in frustration. You could copy the page verbatim, and still Brother Ambrose found things wrong with it. Also, the old man never seemed to remember that he'd assigned Malone the same page for three days in a row. He was tired of reading the same words over and over again and then writing them out. It was beginning to drive him crazy.

Once lessons were finished for the day, Malone went outside to the stables to learn, as Kestrel had put it, to ride properly. No matter what he did, he always managed to fall off. The riding master had told him more than once to move with the horse, but when he tried that it had felt as if he were going to fall off, and when he tried to correct himself, he would tumble into the sawdust of the ring. He would leave the ring to go wash (and soak out some of his aches) before lunch. The queen often entertained during lunch, so Malone had to exercise all of his charm or face Kestrel's certain wrath later. Most of the young women threw themselves at him, and he was getting very tired of the whole business. He wished that Veronica could be there so he could have someone intelligent to talk with.

Once lunch was finished, they either went out in the carriage to ride around town, or they held council. Council was deadly dull and the hardest thing to sit through, and Malone had to look as if he were paying attention or risk Kestrel's glares. He managed to divert himself by imagining strange hairstyles on the head of the speaker, and there were times when he had to fight down laughter. It was one way to stay awake.

As soon as council was finished, Malone had to go and dress for dinner, which was _always_ formal and sit through countless courses while making polite conversation with whomever it was on his right. At least sitting at the queen's right hand meant that he only had one person he had to amuse. Evening entertainments never took long since all he had to do there was mingle a little and then excuse himself, so he was charming and quiet, rather than charming and garrulous. It took longer if he talked to people. Then, he would kiss the queen good night and go off to his quarters. Kestrel was always there with something hot for him to drink, and Malone knew better than to refuse it. The one time he had tried, Kestrel had forced it down his throat, convincing him that the man was mad and determined to keep him there. After all, he couldn't run off during the night if he were drugged, could he?

_This _afternoon, though, there was no way he was going to sit through a council session! Oh, no, he was going to get out of there even if he killed himself in the process! He couldn't stand anymore, and he felt awful lying to the queen all the time. He wasn't her son, and Kestrel would just have to admit to her that he was an old fraud. Reaching his room, Malone went in and shut the door behind him, a sign to Karlton and the other servants that he wished to be left alone. Replacing his shoes with riding boots, Malone scooted back out of the door, determined to--

He dug in his heels to stop himself, almost running into Kestrel. He felt his mouth turn dry as the old man looked at him.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Kestrel asked, laying a hand on Malone's shoulder. "You ran inside so quickly that I wasn't sure you were all right."

"Ah, fine, thank you," Malone said, pulling away. "I was just--"

"Going for a ride?" Kestrel asked, eyeing the boots. "You should be heading to the council session now, not riding," he said, pushing back on Malone's shoulder, forcing the young man back. "You weren't thinking of running off, were you?"

Malone swallowed, seeing a manic glint in Kestrel's eyes that in no way resembled sanity. Hastily, he shook his head.

"I should hope not," Kestrel said, opening the bedroom door and pushing Malone into the room. "What would your mother say?"

"You and I both know that she isn't my mother," Malone said, trying for the umpteenth time to make the old man understand.

"As far as you're concerned, Edward, she is," Kestrel said, compelling Ned into a chair. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small glass bottle. He pulled out the tiny stopper and held it out to Malone, looking angry. "Drink this."

"Oh, no," Malone said, getting up and backing away from Kestrel. "I'm not going to do it. You're mad, Kestrel. I'm not staying here, and you're not going to drug me to make me stay, either!"

Kestrel looked at him, then broke into a hearty chuckle. "_Drug_ you?" Kestrel said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Whatever gave you that idea? It's only an herbal infusion to help calm you, that's all."

"Yeah, calm me right into unconsciousness!" Malone shot back. "Forget it, Kestrel!"

Kestrel's smile disappeared, and he looked angry once more. "Either you take this and drink it, or I'll make sure you do," he snarled. "You're not going anywhere."

Malone glared at him, but shot past him towards the door, trying to get away from the lunatic that called himself a councilor.

Kestrel was faster than he seemed. Moving with the lightning speed of a wild cat, Kestrel caught him around the waist, held him, and forced his head back. It was the work of a moment to get the mixture down his throat, and a bitter taste told Malone that it was much more than a "calming" herbal infusion.

Malone swore as Kestrel released him and as he felt the stuff begin to do its work.

"Well, you had best lie down, Your Highness," Kestrel said, straightening his rumpled coat. "I'll make your excuses to the council since you aren't feeling well this afternoon."

Malone glared at him, then stretched out on his bed. Kestrel drew the curtains and covered him with a light blanket, wishing him "pleasant dreams" as he did so. As Malone drifted off, he wished that his friends were there. On his own, he was practically helpless, but with his friends, _surely _they could figure a way out of this place together.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Okay, I know it's been ages and ages since I last updated this one, but I've just had a major brainstorm, so on with the updating!

Greatest and most fabulous kudos to my reviewers!

Sam: Reviews like yours make my day, my friend!

KaliAnn: Glad you're enjoying this. I know I am.

Leener: Sorry you had to wait so long, buddy.

Ally: It hasn't ended yet!

Frog85: I know. He's my favorite, too. I'm updating.

Slushpuppygal: I like Ned stories, too. I'm going!

Chapter 6

Veronica, Challenger, Roxton, and Margeurite sat in a nearby park, still reeling from what they had seen out in the street. Malone, sitting in a carriage with the queen, waving to the populace? They had heard people all around them talking about how the prince had disappeared when he was barely more than a baby, and about how he had only just returned after saving the queen from a wild animal. The story was quickly becoming the fabric of legend.

"Do you think that Malone really _is_ the prince?" Margeurite asked, staring at the toes of her boots.

"He can't be," Roxton said, shaking his head. "He showed me a photograph of his father, and Ned's the spitting image of him. I don't think it likely that Malone could be adopted by a man who just happened to look just like him."

"No, Malone certainly can't be their prince," Challenger pointed out. "It has to be a mistake. What do you think, Veronica?"

Veronica looked very worried. "No, Malone is Malone, and there's no doubt of it. The woman is their queen, but how she can think Malone is her son just because he saved her is beyond me…There must be something we're not seeing."

With that, each person sunk into his or her own reverie. A nearby fountain gushed water into a large pond, ducks quacked, and well-dressed ladies strolled along the paths. The group was still in its brown study when a woman started screaming. Roxton was the first to spot what had happened: A thief had attacked a woman and stolen her purse. Roxton shot off after him, bringing him down next to the pond. The thief fought, and he and Roxton rolled about on the ground, each trying to wrestle the purse out of the other's hands.

Margeurite saw it before anyone else did: The thief let go of the purse, delivered a vicious kick to Roxton's stomach, and sent him flying into the pond while he made his getaway. Guards who had heard the screaming arrived, and they caught the thief easily while Challenger helped Roxton out of the water.

"Oh, you poor man," the woman said, going to Roxton's side. "Thank you ever so much."

"My pleasure," Roxton croaked, still curled around the knot of pain in his middle. The man had managed to give him a hellish kick.

The other explorers had reached Roxton by this time, and Margeurite examined the woman who was now blotting Roxton's face with a handkerchief. She wore silk, and she was old enough to be a grandmother. So, she was an older woman with station. This was interesting, and it could work to their advantage.

Slowly, Roxton sat up. "Ooh, I didn't know someone could actually kick that hard," he complained, holding a hand over the rapidly forming bruise.

The woman fussed, apologized, and thanked Roxton while Challenger put his jacket around his shoulders. "He'll be all right, Madam," Challenger said encouragingly. "Roxton always helps others."

"So I can see," the lady said, smiling. "Well, such heroism must be rewarded. You are strangers here, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Veronica asked, chagrined.

The woman smiled and nodded. "Yes, my dear, it is. You look as if you just came from the wilderness."

"Well, we did," Margeurite said, smiling. "I must say, it's delightful to be back in civilized country."

The woman chuckled and surveyed Margeurite as an old aunt would a favored niece. "Yes, I can understand that. That settles it: All of you must stay with me at my home, and I won't accept no for an answer."

There were the usual protests of not wishing to be any trouble, but the older woman was determined to have her way. "It's no trouble at all," she assured them as her carriage arrived. "I shall enjoy some company, I must say, and you girls will enjoy the chance to clean up and dress properly, I should think."

Veronica didn't say anything, but Margeurite looked excited.

"And don't think I've forgotten about you two gentlemen," she said, smiling at them both. "You'll both be given a chance to deck yourselves out as well, and tonight, I'll introduce you to the rest of my family. They'll be thrilled to meet you."

Roxton tried to look as if he were looking forward to it, but he wondered if that family included young ladies that were looking for husbands. If that were the case, he would go back to that pond and drown himself.

Space

Roxton and Challenger waited at the foot of the stairs for Margeurite and Veronica to come down. Both men had been given a chance to clean up, and new suits had been tailored for them in record time. Now all they were waiting on was the girls' entrance.

"I must say, Challenger, you look incredible," Roxton said, looking his friend up and down. "The wonders a haircut and trim can do, not to mention the new clothes."

Challenger tugged at his collar. "I despise uncomfortable fashions. You don't look bad, either, Roxton, but this collar is diminishing any enjoyment I've derived from this experience."

Roxton smiled. He knew he looked fabulous, and he wished Margeurite would hurry up so he could see her reaction.

Challenger looked up the staircase, and his eyebrows rose. "Roxton," was all he could say.

Roxton looked, and for a moment he thought an artist's visions had come to life and were descending the stairs. On second look, he realized that the visions were Margeurite and Veronica, all decked out for the evening.

"Well?" Margeurite asked, coming to the foot of the stairs and doing a full turn in order to display her dress. "How do I look?"

"Absolutely stunning," Roxton breathed, taking her hand. "Gorgeous in so many ways."

Margeurite smiled at the flattery, feeling fully in her element. "You look quite nice yourself, Roxton."

Both men studied the ladies. Margeurite was resplendent in red velvet while Veronica wore pale blue silk, and both gowns were off the shoulder with sweeping trains. Both women had gloves that complimented their gowns, their hair had been swept up into crowns of glory, and both sported jewels loaned to them by their hostess. They were spectacles of beauty, and both men had to remind themselves not to stare.

Veronica reached the bottom of the steps and held onto the banister. "I'm going to break my neck before the night's out," she said to Challenger. "I just know it. These ridiculous shoes and this skirt are going to kill me!" She tried in vain to kick the train of her gown out of her way and only succeeded in kicking off her shoe. She groaned as Challenger retrieved it for her and helped her put it back on.

"You'll do just fine, Veronica," Margeurite assured her. "Just remember to take small steps."

"I keep on trying to remember what it said in my mother's charm book," Veronica said nervously as they waited on their hostess. "I'm supposed to stand straight, take small steps, walk with grace, leave my napkin on my chair, and keep my fan in my right hand…" She began to pace and promptly tripped on her skirt.

"Veronica, you're worrying too much," Margeurite said. "Just watch me and follow my lead."

Veroncia nodded as their hostess walked up and led them into the dining room. They made it through introductions and the formal dinner without mishap, and it was only after dessert that they learned that their hostess was a duchess and a cousin to the queen.

"Oh, you know the _queen_?" Margeurite asked, suddenly becoming an ingénue, much to the bafflement of her friends. "Oh, Your Grace, could you possibly introduce us? I have _always _wanted to meet a queen!"

That was when the others caught on. Veronica picked up the mood instantly.

"Does a palace really have a thousand rooms?" she asked, opening her eyes wide and putting on a wondering expression. "Is it really made out of silver and gold?"

The duchess laughed and invited them all to sit down. "Well, it is not so large as all that, nor as opulent, but it is fabulous, I can tell you," she said, patting the side of Veronica's face. "If you really wish to meet the queen, then yes, I can introduce you. I'll send word to her, and then, if she says yes, we'll go tomorrow."

She received effusive thanks from both girls, and she smiled, pleased that she could give them such a treat.

Space

They held a powwow in Margeurite's room that night.

"Okay, we have a way into the palace," she said, lighting a tiny candle. "Once we get in, how do we talk to Malone?"

"I don't know, but at least we have a chance to see him," Challenger said, sounding relieved.

"I know. It's a lot better than my original plan of breaking into the palace, I must say. Good work, you two," Roxton said.

Veronica was ignoring Roxton and pacing again, holding the hem of her long nightgown out of her way. "We can't leave the palace without seeing Malone. Are we all agreed?"

Everyone nodded, certain that they had to get to the bottom of this.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Malone woke up with the worst headache that anyone in the world had ever known. There was also a terrible taste in his mouth, and he had a crick in his neck. Whatever it was that Kestrel had given him, it had been strong. He rolled over and spotted Karlton in the chair next to his bed, asleep and dead to the world. Malone had noticed that Karlton was a worrier, and now he could see that the poor man looked worried even when he was asleep.

Malone sat up and put his feet on the floor, stopping only when he felt his head pound harder. Waiting a few minutes for the pain to go away, he thought about his predicament and how he could get out of it. As long as Kestrel was nearby, he would have no chance: the wily old councilor was ready for any move he tried to make.

"Oh, you're awake," Malone heard Karlton say. He saw that Karlton had woken up as well. "How are you feeling?"

"I have a huge headache," Malone answered. "I want to cut my head off."

Karlton smiled. "Well, I could get you a remedy that wouldn't be quite as drastic, Your Highness."

Ned winced. "Please, Karlton, just call me Ned. None of that 'Your Highness' stuff, all right?"

Karlton nodded. "If that is what you wish."

Malone massaged his temples. "Karlton, do you really think I'm the prince, or do you call me 'Your Highness' because of Kestrel?"

Karlton looked surprised at the question. "Why do you ask that?"

Malone snorted. "I'd have to blind and totally stupid not to notice that you treat me like a normal person when everyone else around me is bowing and 'Your Highness-ing,'" he pointed out.

Karlton shook his head. "I'll tell you something if you agree not to tell anyone else, all right?"

Malone nodded.

"A lot of what's going on isn't what it seems," Karlton said, leaning his head on his hands. "Kestrel isn't always the helpful or humble councilor, as you already know. He's mad, and he's hungry for power. The queen is a good person, and very kind-hearted, but she's too willing to believe something if it's what she wants to believe, and she's not able to stand up to Kestrel. She's often more like a little girl than a woman. That's why Kestrel seems to handle everything."

"I could tell that much," Malone admitted.

"There's more," Karlton told him. "A great deal more. The king was a young man who was determined to rule the people well, and he always questioned every plan that Kestrel had proposed since people would suffer in some way because of them. More than once he and Kestrel had arguments about these vetoes. Everyone thinks that the king died of some kind of illness. I knew him personally, and there was no way that illness could have killed him. No. The last person to see him before that 'illness' had set in was Kestrel."

Malone swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

"That is the sort of person you are dealing with, Ned," Karlton said seriously. "That is why you must be careful. I think that until you can find a way to defeat Kestrel, it would be better for you if you behaved like the proper young prince that Kestrel wants you to be."

Malone nodded. "I see." He stood up, took a deep breath and looked at Karlton. "Well, if I'm going to be a 'proper' young prince, I have to learn how to be one. Could you help me, Karlton?"

Karlton smiled as he stood up as well. "Of course, Your Highness."

Malone glared at him. "Didn't I ask you to call me Ned?"

"Lesson number one," Karlton said, wagging a finger in mock severity. "Everyone calls you 'Your Highness.' Lesson number two is that no one sits while you stand."

"And what is lesson number three?"

Karlton grinned. "A prince must get dressed and ready for breakfast," he said. "That is lesson number three."

Space

Kestrel could not get over the change in the young man that he had chosen to be the prince. He called the queen "Mother" without any prompting, happily attended all the court functions and council sessions, and he asked older members of the court about his "father." It was as if the young man had suddenly been metamorphosed into the real prince.

Kestrel reflected that things could not have turned out better. Ever since the vision, the queen had been acting as if he could do no wrong and happily allowed him to control things. Kestrel smiled at how well the deception had worked and how the 'vision' of the young prince had taken everyone in. The vision had been no lie: He had seen the queen being saved by a young man; all he had done was to tell her that the young man would be her son. The foolish woman had believed it. The kingdom had a prince again, thank goodness. He had no idea where the real prince had gone, but it was better that he had cowed this young man into the role. Since he had been the one responsible for 'restoring' the 'prince' to the kingdom, no one would ever doubt him again.

He gazed out the window at the garden party that was in full swing. The boy was circulating among the guests and being perfectly charming. Things couldn't be going better. Kestrel wandered along the gallery and glanced outside every now and then. He had to take a quick second look when he saw the carriage that was rolling through the gates. It couldn't be! No, it was. Kestrel ground his teeth in annoyance: Duchess Miranda, the queen's elder cousin, had come to the party. In Kestrel's opinion, there wasn't a more aggravating person on earth. He left the gallery to spend the rest of the day in his study.

Space

"Oh, my dear, how good it is to _see_ you!" the Duchess gushed as she hugged the queen. "It's been much too long!"

"Miranda, what a pleasant surprise!" the queen said, returning the embrace. "You must meet my son. You've heard that Kestrel foresaw his return?"

"Yes, it's all the talk in the city," Miranda answered. "You must meet a young man and his friends who were of great help to me just the other day." Without waiting for the queen to say anything, she introduced the people who were right behind her. "This is Mr. Roxton and Dr. Challenger, and these de_light_ful young ladies are Veronica Layton and Margeurite Krux."

Bows and curtsies were exchanged as appropriate, and the queen sent off a waiter to find Edward. A few minutes later the boy was at her side. "This is my son Edward," the queen said proudly as Ned bowed. As Ned straightened up, he felt as if he had just been thrown a lifeline. His friends had found him.


End file.
